


Pumping Iron

by StrikeLikeACobraKai



Series: Working Up a Sweat [1]
Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: 1987ish, Bi-Curiosity, Bisexuality, Bobby's thirsty AF but doesn't know it, Bodily Fluids, Filthy, Freudian Slips, Gyms, Hand Jobs, Like 2400 words in the shower, M/M, POV Bobby, POV First Person, PWP, Public Hand Jobs, Pumping Iron, Showers, Weightlifting as Foreplay, Wordplay, showering together, so much wordplay, sweat kink, working out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27603088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikeLikeACobraKai/pseuds/StrikeLikeACobraKai
Summary: c. 1987Johnny and Bobby have been working out together for months, and they’re pretty competitive about it.But there’s something else that Johnny wants, other than just a higher number on the bench.(Inspired by every shirtless pic/gif from TKK, and in particular the shorts and lack of shirts at soccer tryouts)
Relationships: Bobby Brown/Johnny Lawrence, Dutch/Johnny Lawrence (implied)
Series: Working Up a Sweat [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018029
Comments: 25
Kudos: 37





	Pumping Iron

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KingKarate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingKarate/gifts).



> With 9 fics in this ship tag, I have to wonder if anyone will read this.
> 
> Please be tempted :D Please tell me if you enjoy <3
> 
> Well!!! **[Note from the future]** Hi, new readers :) It's great to see you jumping into Part 1, which is definitely going to give you the best experience to start from. I suggest you take at least a day, if not more, in between reading these instalments. They're quite intense (increasingly as the series goes on), and they don't give you an emotional or tension break, really, as they don't tell the quiet times in between. They're a series, not a complete story. I feel like they read better when you give _yourself_ that break, and then head back in when you're ready :)

Tuesday mornings are pretty quiet at the gym, especially when I manage to get there around nine, so it’s basically the best day of the week there. No rush for equipment, no crowd, no show offs lurking around the dumbbells, no full change rooms.

“Hey,” Johnny greets me at the lockers. He’s stuffing his bag in, and he grabs his Gatorade.

“Sorry I’m late. Traffic.” I open my door and put my bag down, and root around for my workout towel.

He nods and takes a long drink from his bottle, the muscles in his jaw working as he swallows. We’re both in tank tops, but Johnny’s in cotton shorts, all dressed in grey, and I’m wearing my tracksuit pants.

“No problem. We gonna get you to break one ninety today?”

“Easy,” I say confidently, and Johnny flicks his eyebrows at me.

“We’ll see about that.”

Johnny throws his drink back in his locker and shuts the door. We’re all done, I’m putting my key in my pocket, and heading into the main gym where the equipment is, with our towels over our shoulders.

There are mirrors on two of the walls, and we head to the row of stationary bikes across the room.

There are only three or four guys here, like usual, pretty spread out and doing their own thing, so there’s plenty of space not to get in each other’s way. We all focus on our workouts.

Johnny and I warm up on the bikes, side by side, and then start stretching for lifting.

Johnny pats my back when we get to the bench.

“You’re up, Brown. Let’s see what you got.”

I lie back, and spend a minute testing my grip spacing on the bar while he loads it up. I shuffle my body up until I’m happy, planting my feet firmly on the mat. He comes up by my head, his legs spread slightly apart as he reaches for the bar.

“See how you go with this,” Johnny says. “Starting light.”

He’s got his head tipped down to watch me properly, and I see his face concentrating on my hands and my arms.

I lift up, and he guards me until he sees I’ve got it, and I take the bar down near my chest and push it back a few times. I raise it so he knows I want him to guide it back home.

I look left and right at the plates. “How about you put some actual weight on there?” I suggest, talking up at him.

“Don’t get cocky. I said you were starting light.” He’s smirking at me. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

We’ve gotten pretty competitive about this, Johnny and me. Part of it is both of us trying to increase our lift weight, but part of it involves paying each other out as much as we can, as well. I’m pretty sure Johnny loves it, and I know I do.

“Considering you’re spotting for me, yeah. It’s kinda your job to make sure I don’t, right?”

Johnny gives me a crooked smile. “Getting mouthy already?”

“You have that effect on me.”

I look away from him, because I can’t quite handle the way he stares at me when I say that, and I say impatiently, “Well? You gonna load up and spot, or show me how to braid your hair?”

“Hold it in, why don’t you?” he mutters as he swaps out and sets a new twenty on each end.

When I take the bar from him this time, I’m pleased to feel the weight, and I get into the workout, doing a proper set. I’m pretty much concentrating, and I know Johnny’s watching my form closely in case I’m going to lose it.

“That your limit?” he asks me, when he takes it back.

“No way. Keep it coming.”

I duck out from under the bar and sit up to take my shirt off, knowing that I won’t quit until I’ve worked up a sweat, and until everything hurts in a good way.

Johnny’s fixed the bar again, and I dry my hands and find my position underneath. Johnny comes back to the centre and his shorts brush against my hair as he takes his stance there.

“One ninety,” he says, and I’m adjusting my grip. Johnny’s hands briefly cover mine, just a squeeze before they lock around the middle facing opposite ways. “Let’s see how you go with this, tough guy.”

I smile at his challenge and brace myself, lifting up. When Johnny lets go, it’s a heavy set of weight, but I bring it down slowly, taking care not to come too low, and then put most of my strength into raising it back up, resisting the strong temptation to lock my arms.

It’s distracting to look at Johnny’s concerned attention, so I don’t, focussing on the rectangular panels in the ceiling instead, as I lift five more times.

If I want to go heavier, which I do, I need to stop there, to save my last energy for it, and then stop. I used to make stupid mistakes overdoing it in the early days this year, especially trying to outdo Johnny, but now I can feel when it’s the right amount not to slow my training down. I’m nearly there today.

I pass the bar back, and say, “Give me two.”

“You sure?” He huffs a breath, blowing his hair out of his face. “I thought you might be done. You’re looking a little strained, my friend.”

“I’m good. I just wanna shot.”

He’s hesitating, but already picking up two little plates to add.

“You sure?”

“You already asked that. Hurry the fuck up.”

He gives a low chuckle. “Okay...”

I swallow and grit my teeth when I try to push this bar up, and maybe I have made a mistake.

I really don’t know if I can bear the idea of backing down, though.

“You okay there?” Johnny taunts me, when I have to readjust my grip to get ready for another attempt. I dry my hands again, and tighten up.

This time he catches my gaze when I’m about to lift, our eyes lock through the curtain of his blond hair, and I decide to use that spur me on. I stare hard at Johnny as I push and he helps me, and the bar comes free into our hands, and I see him raising an eyebrow.

“Impressive. You want it?”

I can only give a slight nod, bracing myself as I lower it down, and it’s taking everything I’ve got.

Johnny only lets go gradually, waiting until he’s confident I can handle it, which I only barely can.

“Hot shit,” he comments.

His hands don’t stray far, ready and cupping to grab the bar from underneath if he needs to, but I make sure he doesn’t, for a half dozen more reps.

I’m caked with sweat when I return the bar to him, but absolutely pumped at my progress.

I hit my thighs in victory and duck out to sit up. I’m reaching for my towel, but Johnny’s already come around to pick it up and throw it at my stomach.

“Nice,” he says, looking at my arms. “You okay?”

I wipe my face, and across my chest.

“I’m great.”

“We’ll have you breaking two twenty in no time, and then the sky’s the limit.”

I smile smugly. “I’m gonna catch you up, even though you weigh more than me.”

He scoffs. “I don’t weigh that much more, but you go on using that as an excuse if you need to.”

I was about to get up; my legs are still either side of the bench, but Johnny’s put his knee up on the vinyl, right there between mine.

I grin up at him. “Trust me, I won’t need an excuse. Now why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, and show me what you got?”

He’s got that indescribable look in his eyes again, the one that makes me feel a little weird; not bad weird, just different weird. “I’m waiting for you to get off my bench,” he says down at me, “so I can do that.”

I’m about to say some kind of insult, that it’s a little hard to get out, with Johnny right there, when he reaches over his head and pulls his shirt off, leaving just the shorts on, which sit low down under his hips, and which flashes his abs pretty much right in my face.

I move my eyes away and all I can come up with is, “Well, I would, but there’s a giant lump in my way,” and I lift my leg up and swing around to the side. Johnny always does shit like this, gets in my face, but _way_ more than he used to in school. Now he invades my personal space like it doesn’t exist. Back then it was more likely to be Dutch he did this with, and Dutch would challenge him back just as much, but I haven’t decided if it’s my thing or not, since it seems pretty, like, intense, to do that with a guy you’re friends with.

I’m turning back to wipe the bench down, when Johnny slaps my thigh.

“Forget it, don’t worry.”

I stand and I’m about to ask him, doesn’t he think that’s a little gross? But he’s already spinning around to sit in my spot, and then lying back, so it’s too late to bother.

A little flush of heat comes as I think about Johnny lying with his bare back where mine just was, in my sweat, but I shake it off.

Johnny’s already got his grip ready to go by the time I move into place, and he’s waiting with this impatient look, as if I took an hour to get here.

“You’re just gonna start with two hundred, huh?” I taunt, already reaching for one end of the bar to make a change.

I’m stalled by his cocky voice. “Yup.”

I shake my head and laugh. “Look, bullshit. I get that we’re measuring here, but don’t be an idiot. How ‘bout I warm you up, first?”

He blows his hair off his face and tightens his grip.

“I’m warm enough. I just spotted you.”

I roll my eyes. “If you get hurt, this won’t be my fault.”

“I mean, technically…”

“Nope.” I smile tightly.

We both know there’s no literally no way he can’t go through with this now, and I must admit I’m worried, but here we are.

It’s not unusual for something like this to happen during our sessions, and luckily, nothing’s gone wrong up until now.

“Two hundred,” he says.

“Okay, big guy.” I take hold of the bar. “Show me what you got.”

He smiles and we take the bar up together. I see the strain in his arms as I give it over to him, and I focus there, watching his shoulders and his grip, checking for any lack or loss of control, my hands ready below, but he’s got it.

His jaw clenches as he works through his set, and I’m wondering if he regrets starting so big, but he’ll never admit it.

Johnny’s been at this longer than me, although we’ve both been taking it more seriously this year. He’s stronger, as much as I hate to admit it, although weight for weight, we’re close to dead even. The only reason he calls that an excuse is because it ruins his lead over me.

But even though he’s taller and a little bigger across the chest, he’s got less body fat than me, like hardly any, so his muscles tend to be pretty obvious, and not just in his arms, but his abs and pecs. I have to admit, I’d like to achieve some more of that myself, because it looks good.

When he’s done with that, I figure he’ll want two-ten, but he says, “Give me the twenty five.”

“Right onto it, huh? You ever lifted that?”

I’m smiling as I’m loading up, because I know what his reply will be. “You know I can do two forty.”

“ _Once_ ,” I say clearly, moving to the other end. “You did it _one time_. That doesn’t count. I’m happy to back you up on two thirty, if you wanna claim that.”

He laughs a breath, and I see him reach lazily for his towel and wipe his face, without getting up. He dries his hands and throws the towel away again. “We both know you’d count it if you did it, even if you didn’t get a set in. Which I did.”

“Well,” I say, “it’s all just empty words. Two two five.”

Johnny smiles up at me as we get our grips, sure of himself, and apparently in no danger of losing concentration even though he’s looking at me and not the bar.

I see the tightness come into his face as I start the lift with him and gradually transfer to him. I look away from those over-confident eyes then, to do my job.

I’m probably half disappointed he can do it, half relieved he doesn’t look like he’s in danger, and half impressed that this obviously isn’t his limit, which I’ll never tell him. I know that’s three halves, but as far as I recall from math, you can actually have, like, any number with fractions, although I’m a little rusty on the details.

He’s making sounds of effort now, and I see the strain in him, but there’s no panic; he’s in control. All of his arm and shoulder muscles are engaged, and I see how much his lats are developed as they come into play down by the bench.

He blows out a deep breath at the end of that set, and he’s starting to sweat. He pants for a few more breaths, and dries his hands again, and I’m not surprised when he resets for another weight.

“What you want?” I ask, already at the stack of plates and bending down to toy with fives or tens.

He says something under his breath, which I don’t catch, and I straighten up and come back with two fives.

“You want these?”

“More.”

“Show-off. You’re gonna take it too far.”

It seems like he’s got his head tipped back further than he needs to, and I see the sharp lump of his adam’s apple.

“Relax. I’m good at knowing how far I can take it.” His throat bobs as he talks, and I feel some heat in my neck, looking down at his head not so far from my body. An uninvited image flashes across my eyes, and I’m moving to swap out some weights, trying to distract myself from that thought.

“My final offer,” I say, when I’ve set the bar. “Your so-called PB. Let’s see you repeat it.”

“Two forty?”

“Two forty.”

Fuck, it’s heavy, even from my position, but one day, I am gonna claim this weight for myself, too.

“You got it?”

Johnny grunts out, “Yeah.”

And his whole upper body is engaged in lowering it this time, like every muscle standing out. His stomach is as hard as a rock bracing him, and I can see his thighs are fully engaged, since his shorts don’t go down far, and they’ve bunched up at the top of his legs, anyway. His elbows take the right form line on the way down, and then back up. My hands are waiting, ready, but he’s on the way down again, grunting with the effort.

“Fucking hell, Johnny,” I comment. “You’re benching two forty.”

There’s not really any break to his intense concentration, and with the determination in his eyes in that moment, I’d just about believe Johnny could do anything he told me he could. He looks powerful and unstoppable, and it sends a shiver down me, one that I can’t quite put a name to, similar to how I feel when Johnny gets in my space or gives me that look.

He grunts loudly on a push, and I take it to mean that’s the last one in his set, because I’m ashamed to admit I lost count. I’m taking the bar, and his hands push up with me part of the way to put it away, and then he collapses down, panting, his eyes squeezed closed, his hair sticky.

His ribs hollow out and then his stomach moves up and down with his breath, and I find myself watching and swallowing, before realising I should start to put the weights away.

I’ve stacked up, and Johnny’s sitting on the bench now, wiping himself down and smirking at me.

“What you think?”

I roll my eyes a little. “Fine, so I’m not gonna catch you today.”

“Damn straight, you aren’t.”

“How about a leg press, then?” I challenge, because I’ve still got him there, by loads.

He gives a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I was gonna head over, and then hit the showers. Sound good?”

Johnny goes first, since there’s only one incline bench, and I do some squats to warm up.

I make a show of adding twenty five, once he’s done, for my first set, happy to be in front of Johnny on something.

He does a couple curls while I’m doing my sets, although he keeps one eye on me, maybe to make sure I’m actually doing the number I’m gonna claim.

I’m wiping the bench down, and standing up to rotate my neck, feeling pleasantly sore, sweaty and hot, and looking forward to the shower.

My arms are feeling it more than my legs, although I’ve got the buzz going from my workout, which always lasts me a good while. It’s one of the best parts, right after breaking a number barrier for the first time.

We collect our shirts, and sling our towels back over our shoulders to head to the lockers first.

We’re both pretty thirsty, and grabbing for our drinks. Johnny looks as hot as I feel, as we clear our things out and take our bags. We cross back through the gym, drinking as we go, and heading to the change rooms.

Inside it’s three rooms all open to each other, the floors all tiled with tiny blue squares: one small room in the middle, that you enter, with benches around it and hooks on the wall, another off to the left where the restroom, basins and cubicles are, and the shower room off to the right, where the walls are covered with splash tiles, big white squares, with about fifteen showerheads around the room. Two other guys are in there, and someone’s getting dressed over by a bench on the right, but we don’t look at each other.

Johnny and I grab some proper towels from the basket, and head over to the other side of the room to dump our stuff.

I start to undress, and Johnny’s got his thumbs inside his waistband, slipping his shorts down and adding them to his pile on the bench.

I hit the showers first, passing one of the other guys on his way out, and flip on a faucet about halfway down the left wall, far away from the other guy. I’m letting the water run over my head and soaping up my chest and stomach, when Johnny comes up next to me, side by side, and starts up.

“Two forty,” he reminds me, in case I forgot.

He’s starting to rub some water over his upper body like he always does at the beginning.

“Yeah, yeah. Shame you can’t quite do so well with your legs, I guess. I remember when I used to be down in the three hundreds, too.”

He turns to me and his open hand comes over in front of my body, palm up, and I drop the soap in. He’s way too close, right inside my space again on purpose, but maybe I don’t hate it, especially during our competition about weights.

I’m rinsing now, and I hear him say. “Seems like you enjoyed today, as usual.”

I turn to face him, showing he can’t scare me that easy, and he’s looking down at me, smirking pretty dirtily as he slides the soap under one armpit and starts to wash.

I roll my eyes and smile. “Are you ever gonna not look at my dick in the shower, or what? I’m starting to think you’ve got a fixation.”

So yeah, I get a hard-on from working out. Not a full one, but it’s the rush. It gets me every time, and I don’t think it’s a big deal.

Johnny lets out a low chuckle, closing his eyes for a second, and tipping his head under the spray, then flicking it away, before he washes across his stomach. 

“You get a semi, I’m gonna call you on it.”

“Shut up,” I beg, grinning, as the last guy walks past us over to the benches.

“Why should I?” He’s smirking again. “You got nothing to be ashamed of.”

I’m stifling a laugh. He always cracks me up about this. I can’t tell if he’s trying to embarrass me, or what, but so far it’s failed.

“Trust me, I already know.”

I hear his chuckle as I start to rinse my hair. When I wipe the water away from my eyes, Johnny’s looking at me with a challenge.

His eyes flick down my body again, like he’s checking me out, and there’s something so unashamed in it that I feel a flicker of that heat again.

“You’re pretty sure about that?” Johnny’s rubbing one arm with the soap, up and down over his bicep and up to his shoulder.

I sigh smugly. “From all reports. You done with that?”

Johnny soaps his groin up right before passing it back to me, and my eyes flick down there without meaning to, and then quickly move up higher when I realise what I’m looking at, although I guess I should feel free, since he does.

I noticed the way his fingers were sitting then, and a quick second glance confirms it.

I can’t resist a jab. “You good there? Looks like I’m not the only one who likes to work out.”

Johnny throws a glance behind him, back at the change rooms, and then turns back. I notice there’s now nobody else in here with us.

“You get a good look?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “You can always take another.”

I refuse to, instead rolling my eyes at him and turning back to face the tiled wall, but from the corner of my eye, I can see his hand is still moving down there, and I swallow and focus on combing through my hair. I push it back off my face, with one hand, before I soap up the only part of me I haven’t washed.

My erection hasn’t gone away, and I get a little shiver as I wash myself, trying to shake off the feeling, and not enjoy it too much.

“You gonna do something about that?” comes a voice from my shoulder, and when I look across, Johnny’s right there, he’s stepped into my space again.

He’s looking at my face pretty intensely, but he knows where my hand is, and I know that’s what he was talking about. I’m disturbed to feel myself growing harder against my palm, although not very disturbed, since I’m turned on, which always feels great.

I try to speak and then have to clear my throat, and I say, “Yeah, right.”

Johnny shrugs slightly. “You can, if you want. There’s no one here.”

I look at the faucets, trying to keep my breath steady. “You’re here.”

“That a problem?”

Johnny reaches back to turn his shower off, and then leans his elbow up on the wall, standing just out of my water, watching me expectantly.

Shit, I am hard as a rock, and confused, but so turned on, and I don’t know which one more. Okay, maybe I do. Holy _shit._

I glance at him and swallow, not backing away. “What, you gonna watch?”

“If you want me to.”

My heart’s pretty much in my throat right now, and I don’t know if there’s any way I’m gonna be able to cool it, not sure if I can resist going with the confusing feeling I get from looking at Johnny, seeing that shameless offer in his face.

“Or I could do more than watch.”

My eyes widen now, in fear, in curiosity, and my dick, which is making its own decisions separate from my common sense, twitches longingly in reaction.

Johnny steps away from the wall to close in to me, on my side. His body stops a few inches away from my hip, and I see his eyes roaming over my chest, and then his hand swings slowly over in front of me.

It curls around to close me inside, just on the edge of where my own fingers are, his hot hand, and I suck in a gasp and bite my lip.

“It feels better than when you do it to yourself,” Johnny murmurs. “Feels fucking amazing.”

I realise I’m going to say yes, _have_ to say yes, because I really need to get off, and for some reason, it’s not a problem that I want to try it involving my best friend. More like the opposite of a problem.

I’m already lifting off my fingers, only a little hesitation, and then moving my hand away, so he can reach better, and he takes hold of me in a warm grip.

There is _one_ problem though, which my brain throws out somehow, and it might be just about it from up there, because Johnny gives me one stroke, proving he’s right about how good it is.

“Shit,” I breathe, because that feels amazing. “What - what if someone comes in here?”

His head is hovering near my ear, and he speaks there. “I don’t really give a fuck, but if you do, there’s always the shower cubicles.”

When I don’t answer with words, he seems to get it anyway, and sighs, taking his hand away.

“Go,” he says. “Fuck’s sake, go already.”

He’s turning off my shower, pushing me, although it’s not in the right direction, and it’s playful, like the way he always touches me, which seems to fit in fine with this other thing.

“I’m trying to,” I argue, smirking and shoving him back, my fingers sliding over his shoulders.

He grabs the towels on our way past our stuff, and puts them over the top of the door, which he locks behind us.

It’s one of those long cubicles with the section where you can stand and get dressed, and the lower tiled part where the shower is.

“Guess I’d better put this on, in case someone comes in.” Johnny’s got the water going, adjusting it so it’s nice and warm.

I lean back on the side of the shower wall and wait, out of the spray. It’s only a few seconds when Johnny turns to me and steps up close, just about right into me, and puts his forearm on the wall next to me.

If he did it to a girl, it would be way over her head, but since I’m not far short of him, I mostly get a view of his arm and his shoulder opening out, and the patch of dark blond hair there.

I don’t really know what to do with my hands, so they’re down at my sides, but Johnny’s sure right hand finds me again, thank god.

“This what you’re looking for?” he asks, smiling suggestively.

It’s such a relief to be touched, that I can’t smirk as much as I want to, more that I lean my head back on the wall while he starts.

“Feels good.”

“Told you it would.”

My lips are parted while I’m breathing through my mouth, and he’s watching that, and working his hand over me like an expert.

“Holy _shit…_.” I say, clenching my jaw.

I can’t resist looking down to watch, and it turns me on even more, _so much more_ when I see his fingers gripped around me, covering a lot of me, his wrist tight with tension as he jerks me off.

Heat and need flare right through me, and a moan comes from deep in my throat. “Fuck. Oh, fuck…”

Johnny’s looking down too, watching himself touch me. “It’s hot, right? So fucking _hot.”_

I nod and bite my lip as my body starts to turn in on itself blindingly quickly.

Not far from me is Johnny’s erection, jutting out like a hard spike between us, and I stare at it, see it moving with his body’s slight movement, and my toes start to curl, because I’m already nearly there, this is just way too good to take. There’s a throb as the tension balls up in me when he picks up speed.

Johnny tightens his hand, and my palms hit the wall behind me, clawing uselessly for a grip there.

“Shit, I’m gonna come.”

His steady voice fills my mind. “Then come.”

The rush of release hits me like a train, and I blow on his stomach, painting his abs, groaning out some curses as the pulses jolt through me and his hand works me until I finish. I’m fucking flying, loving that feeling, overwhelmed by the intensity.

When it fades, I’m sinking against the wall, breathing hard, pushing my hair back, and watching the look on Johnny’s face, the lust, while he’s still looking down between us.

I’m panting that way when he finds my eyes again.

I reach to get a handful of water to splash on him, to clean him off, but he turns his body away so I can’t.

“Leave it,” he says forcefully. “Like I said, it’s hot.”

Holy _fuck_. How can this feel so sexy?

I realise Johnny’s voice sounds tense because he hasn’t gotten off like I just did, and I’m going to change that.

I don’t warn him before I reach out, and I smile when I see his surprise, followed by a ragged sigh that he’s pretty happy I’m touching him.

His skin feels real soft, pretty much like mine feels when I do this, I guess, but the angle is the total opposite. It takes some getting used to, but the weight of him in my hand feels real good. Right away I swap my grip to be on top, because it’s easier, and it would feel better for him with how close we’re standing.

He leans on that arm on the wall and spreads his legs further apart, and I tighten my hand, staring at him, locked to his blue eyes.

I’ll do my best, and it seems like it’s going well enough, because Johnny’s breathing’s pretty rapid, and louder so that I can hear it, and the stuff that’s happening on his face, the way he’s gritting his teeth, the tension coming into his eyes, is as hot as hell.

Before I can think better of it, I drag my other hand across his stomach, making a mess there, and it causes Johnny to groan. This is just about the dirtiest thing I can imagine, but somehow so fucking hot, that with maybe ten minutes, I’m gonna be turned on by it. Okay, far less than ten.

Johnny’s stomach is just rows and rows of hard lines under my slippery fingers, and I look down find the line separating his obliques on one side and run up it.

His free hand grips my upper arm and starts to knead me, and I can’t keep my eyes off of his dick in my hand, thick and solid, that I’m moving up and down over it, how it disappears into my grip, the way I can rub my thumb over his head, over the slit there. It’s so freaking sexy that I can’t even form thoughts.

“Fucking yes…” he murmurs hoarsely. “Like that. _God,_ yes.”

“Yeah?” I’m moving my hand pretty quickly now, the sound of skin hitting skin driving me crazy.

All the muscles across his stomach are tensed up, and the hand on my arm grips in, suddenly tight.

“Fuck,” he groans out, pushing his hips forward. His body goes rigid, right before a wash of warmth hits my hand, my wrist, splashing onto my body.

Johnny’s got his eyes closed tight, his mouth clenched around his sounds of relief, and I’ve never seen him so unburdened, so elated.

He’s hanging his head and breathing down between us as he recovers, and I release him.

“Shit,” he sighs with deep content, and then meets my gaze, still hanging off the wall. “Thanks… you got the hang of that pretty fucking quickly.”

“I’m a fast learner.”

He smiles and steps backward under the water, closes his eyes and letting it hit his head, as it comes down to wash away what we’ve just done.

I breathe in and come off the wall, taking his place when he’s done, when he’s moved away to dry himself.

The main thing I’m thinking now that I’m under the water, is that we are definitely going to be doing that again, and it better be soon.

Johnny wraps the towel around his waist and throws me one final smirk as he unlocks the door.

He opens it a crack, checking to see if anyone is out there, while I’m turning off the shower.

“Count to thirty,” he tells me, right before he leaves, and so I do.

**Author's Note:**

> There's more filth where this this came from, so buckle up <3


End file.
